


the long, slow fall into the sun

by Luridel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Base Game Spoilers, F/M, Minor Trespasser DLC Spoilers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luridel/pseuds/Luridel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what his people have come to, Solas thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt:
> 
> "So it's revealed in the DLC that at first, Solas didn't even think modern Thedosians were people, but if the Inquisitor befriended him, he came around and began seeing the worth in them.
> 
> I want something about that moment of revelation, when the Inquisitor or the companions make him realize that they're people, and his friends."

Solas holds his breath as he follows the Seeker into the survivor's cell. His eyes are drawn first to the Anchor inside her hand, the green mark stretching across her palm. It sparks violently, a tiny mirror of the Breach that churns overhead. He looks next at her face, covered by pale, twining marks, that bring to mind crawling vines: the vallaslin that declare her property of Elgar'nan. One of the Dalish, then. Kneeling beside the prisoner on the cold flagstones, Solas reaches out to touch her cheek.

"Can you wake her?" Lady Cassandra Pentaghast's voice is not kind, and it draws Solas back to reality. Quickly, he takes the prisoner's hand instead, examining the Anchor.

"I shall try."

* * *

The prisoner is no longer a prisoner when Solas sees her next. She is awake and unshackled, eyes a paler green than her vallaslin and glittering with fear. She holds a staff—she is a _mage_ , and yet the Seeker allowed her a weapon, freed her hands, and this means something that Solas will not, must not think about. He grabs her hand, instead, and helps her seal the rift.

* * *

Then the prisoner is Risa of the Lavellan clan, being snapped at by a blustering nobody of the Andrastian Chantry, and with every harsh word of his, she shrinks back a little further towards the Seeker. The Seeker, to Solas's surprise, rallies to the prisoner's defense like a mother bear, insisting that she came willingly.

When they all turn to this lost little Lavellan girl to set their course, her jaw drops. "Me?" she asks, incredulous. "Now you want _me_ to decide?" She looks like a small, fragile child as she stands in a beam of sunlight on the bridge, like a plant afraid to reach for the sun for fear of getting burned. A thought comes to him: as an elf, as a mage, in this uncomfortable, backwards world, no one has ever trusted her with a decision like this.

"You bear the mark," responds the Seeker with such finality that even the Grand Nobody of the Chantry shuts up.

The prisoner surprises him, then. She straightens her shoulders; raises her head high. "I'd like to save your people, but I'm not very familiar with this area," she says, voice soft but no longer afraid. "Varric? Solas? What do you think?" She turns to them; looks down at the dwarf and then up at Solas.

Solas meets her gaze and thinks that Elgar'nan's markings don't suit her at all.

* * *

They begin calling the girl the Herald of Andraste while she sleeps. Solas goes in to check on her several times, but again, he is not there when she wakes. He hears the residents of Haven whispering about it, however, and when he runs into her next, she is coming out of the apothecary's house.

To be more accurate, she runs into him.

She is a slight little thing, all skin and bones, and the impact doesn't hurt. The Lavellan girl stammers out an apology, her fingers twisting together. Then: "I wanted to thank you. Lady Cassandra tells me you helped with the mark while I was asleep."

It's so simple for him to think of her as a child. _Da'len_ , he takes to calling her. She comes to speak with him often; asks questions and then listens as intently as if he actually were one of the elders in her clan. He learns from her, indirectly, just how many things the Dalish have managed to get wrong. She is First to her clan's Keeper, and the vallaslin on her face means that she has come of age. The Sylvanwood ring she wears, little Lavellan tells him, is a symbol of her responsibilities to her clan. He asks her how her clan tells the story of the Dread Wolf, because, despite himself, he wants to know. He needs to know.

The story is not a kind one.

* * *

They are cruel to the girl in Val Royeaux, but she holds her ground in front of the crowd. She makes no claim to have been chosen by Andraste, but the Breach must be sealed, she insists. "They're just frightened," she tells the Seeker. "They want someone to blame." So they blame the elf, she does not say. She accepts Grand Enchanter Fiona's invitation with utmost courtesy. She leads him, the Seeker, and the dwarf around Val Royeaux on a fool's errand, following a trail of red scraps of fabric. The elf they lead to, this Red Jenny, makes such a spectacularly terrible first impression that Solas revises his opinion of the Lavellan girl on the spot. Placed beside Sera, the difference is startling.

This is what his people have come to, Solas thinks. At least the Dalish are _trying_. Sera, it seems, couldn't care less. And yet the Lavellan girl welcomes her into the Inquisition with open arms.

* * *

The Lavellan girl goes to attend a party and returns with a woman Solas immediately cannot stand. Madame de Fer is a Circle mage to the bone, and so it astonishes Solas that the Lavellan girl manages to find any common ground between them—but somehow she does. Madame de Fer is a Knight-Enchanter, and when Solas catches her demonstrating a staff technique to the Lavellan girl in the training yard, there is a strange, wavering moment where he feels... envious? That can't be right.

* * *

The more Solas learns of the Qun, the more angry it makes him. The Iron Bull is Qunari to the core. Hissrad, he is called. Liar. And yet the Lavellan girl welcomes the Qunari spy into the Inquisition, along with his Chargers, and Solas supposes he will just have to get used to this.

Something about the Qunari spy unnerves him, and it takes Solas some time to place it: Hissrad is _good_ at what he does, and even Solas has trouble reading him.

* * *

"Where were you, elf?" The soldier's tone draws Solas closer. The man stands near Haven's siege equipment, dressed in the battered uniform of the Inquisition, looming over a slender figure. Solas can see the tips of her ears through her brown hair. The soldier continues: "I sent for lunch an hour ago! Have you been lazing about all this time?" The elven servant is shaking. Solas storms forward.

"Do you know who I am?" the servant asks. Her voice is gentle, and Solas recognizes her at the same time as the soldier does.

"My lady Herald, forgive me, I didn't mean," he begins, off-balance.

"My name is Risa, but that shouldn't matter." Risa Lavellan has stopped trembling; her voice is kind and calm. Seeing that she has the situation under control, Solas backs off before he is seen, slipping behind a tree to listen.

"If I'd known it was you," the soldier starts, then falls silent as Risa smoothly interrupts him.

"Perhaps, if you treated everyone with equal respect, you would never find yourself in a situation like this. Come."

"My lady Herald?"

"You've been waiting to eat, haven't you? I'll come with you. Shall we?"

Solas presses his back against the tree, holding his breath as the two of them pass by him. Risa has taken the soldier's arm, and Solas wonders how he ever could have thought of her as a child.


	2. Haven

They are all _shemlen_ to him, all of them, and their lives move so fast. Solas finds it overwhelming. Such little time has passed since the Conclave and yet so much has changed. As word of the fledgling Inquisition spreads, refugees mass to Haven. Feeling that he still needs to regain his footing in this new and unfamiliar world, Solas makes a polite request and ends up with an autographed copy of Varric Tethras's _Tale of the Champion_.

He reads the book cover to cover in the time it takes for Risa, the Seeker, the First Enchanter, and Sera to travel to Redcliffe and back. It pains him to admit that master Tethras is actually quite a remarkable author. Solas cannot tell what is true and what is fiction in the tale, but he finds himself strangely invested in the fate of this Ferelden refugee family. When Raiya Hawke returns from the Deep Roads to find that her sister Bethany was taken away by templars while she was gone, Solas is furious—but not at all surprised.

Master Tethras has truly put together a diverse ensemble of characters, and Solas finds himself fascinated. There is the Hawke family, first and foremost. The parents: Malcolm Hawke, dead even before the tale begins and still casting a great shadow over his children, and Leandra Amell, a woman who gave up a life of riches and comfort to run away with the man she loved, something Solas can't help but admire her for. Raiya Hawke, the eldest child, is Varric's protagonist, a natural leader with a knack for getting into trouble and getting out of it in various dashing, dramatic ways. Carver Hawke dies in the prologue, but Bethany, the mage who is tired of running and living her life in fear, survives.

The romantic subplot between Hawke and Merrill comes as a surprise to Solas. Although the Dalish elf is portrayed as foolish more often than not, Solas suspects that Varric has left key elements of her character out of the story in order to protect his friend. Perhaps he has done this for more than just Merrill.

When he reaches the last page, he feels a twinge of disappointment.

Sera has the courtesy to tell him how the trip to Redcliffe went: "Frigging waste of time. Also, time? Being wobbly and shite. Tevinter arseholes mucked it up. And she wants to go _back_ there!" The look on her face is pure discomfort.

Alarmed, Solas goes in search of Risa. He's not entirely certain how to interpret Sera's words, nor is he certain why he's so concerned. She's gone into the Chantry to speak with the Inquisition's leaders, and there's an unfamiliar mage standing with his ear pressed to the door of the meeting room.

Solas clears his throat.

The mage turns and winks at him. "Pay me no mind," he says. "I'm waiting for the perfect moment to make my entrance." Before Solas can think of a reply, the mage apparently hears something that indicates his moment has arrived; he slams the door open with a flourish, striding inside. This, Solas later realizes, is not at all unusual behavior for Dorian Pavus.


	3. Redcliffe

The Herald of Andraste chooses Solas and Sera to accompany her to confront the Tevinter magister whose time magic ( _time magic_!) has dominated Redcliffe. They must look a curious sight to Magister Alexius, Solas imagines: three elves representing the Inquisition. A guards objects - the invitation was for the Herald of Andraste alone - and Risa simply holds up a hand, locking eyes with the guard. "They go where I go," she says, simply, and the guard allows it.

Solas wonders where it comes from—this strange presence of hers. She commands a quiet sort of authority: when she speaks, others listen. He wonders how much the Anchor has changed her, in what ways it has altered her mind and her morals. Is the Anchor to blame, or something else? Is it simply the perceived authority of Andraste behind her words? Risa is difficult to say no to, Solas has found, and he wishes he knew why. Madame de Fer has a similar air about her, but not the same. Her authority comes with age, power, and rank, and were she to rule, Solas suspects she would rule through fear.

It is not fear of the Herald's wrath that allows Solas and Sera to enter Redcliffe's throne room. Solas schools his expression to careful blankness, listening to the magister's bluster, readying himself for a fight. And then—

—Risa and Dorian disappear and reappear and Solas relishes the look on Alexius's face. The balance of power in the room has shifted; the magister has lost. Risa welcomes the mages into the Inquisition as equals.

* * *

Solas is horrified by Risa's description of the future she saw. She digs the toes of her boots deep into the snow as she tells him everything. He believes her, although he wishes he didn't. Her voice begins to shake as she describes the way the future versions of himself and Sera were infected with red lyrium. "You gave your lives to get, to get Dorian and I back here," she stammers, looking down. "I-I couldn't stop you. You died to give this world another chance. Thank you, Solas." There are snowflakes in her hair, tiny flecks of white.

Solas circles behind her, reaching for her hood and pulling it up to cover her head. "You have nothing to thank me for, _da'len_." Gratitude is the last thing he deserves, especially from _her_ , who he has wronged more than any of them.

She is real to him in a way that the other pale imitations of the people are not. His mark on her hand makes her a beacon to everyone—the Andrastians, the Inquisition, even him. She could have lived in his time, he thinks. She is real, and that means that the rest of them—

No.

* * *

Mages continue to arrive in small groups. Lady Montilyet struggles to accommodate them all, but Haven is too small for anyone's comfort. The eavesdropper, the Tevinter mage ( _Dorian Pavus_ ), sticks around, much to Risa's delight. Whatever the two of them faced together in the future, it appears to have solidified Risa's trust in him. Pavus is not a magister, he insists, but his family owns slaves. He is used to being pampered, and it shows. Solas doesn't care much for him at first, but Risa takes the two of them (and the Qunari) with her to the Hinterlands and Solas finds himself debating spellcasting techniques with the other mage.

They manage to track down a Warden Blackwall, who accompanies them back to the Haven. He is a lone recruiter, isolated from the rest of his organization, and he says very little about himself—something Solas can respect.

* * *

Preparations to seal the Breach are well underway. Haven awaits a shipment of lyrium for the mages. Commander Cullen has to stop more than one fight from breaking out between the mages and the ex-templars in the Inquisition's army. The Inquisition's commander is nothing like he was portrayed in _The Tale of the Champion_ ; Solas wonders, not for the first time, just how accurately Varric has written his characters.

Solas finds himself slipping more than he should, thinking of them with their names, as if they are real people.

Then he meets his first Tranquil. Its name is Helisma, it tells him, researcher Minaeve's assistant. It has been branded with a sunburst on its forehead, its connection to the Fade sealed away. It is content to live as it now does, a husk of its former self. Solas thinks back to what he has read of Kirkwall with growing horror. Varric has described the Gallows as full of these things, these Tranquil. The thought sickens him.


End file.
